As Fate Would Have It
by The Moonlight's Secret
Summary: Harper Faye was nothing short of normal; she considered herself just another mere face in the crowd, a passerby that no one spared a second look. But when she incidentally finds herself being used as a ploy for the God of Mischief to avoid the gallows, she becomes a much larger part in the Nine Realms than she ever thought possible. Post-Avengers. Eventual LokiXOC. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, guys! So I know I haven't worked on Psychique Femme in a long time, but I'm feeling slightly unmotivated and unsure as to where to go with it (as far as the Dark World goes). So! I got this idea in my head and decided to go with it in the meanwhile. It's a little slow in the beginning, but hopefully things will pick up. Tell me what you think!_

…

Harper Faye was anything but rare, at least in her eyes. She did not stand out in a crowd, merely passing others by as "just another face" in the throng of ants pushing and shoving one another, as though they all thought that their own destination was the most important. If she was in a movie, she'd be the bystander, the extra that no one ever mentions or draws any attention to.

She was a baker in a local café in Manhattan, New York City. Even at her profession, she was given little more than a second glance from customers, most of who simply clicked away at their phones and mumbled their orders without so much as taking the time to read her name tag.

If anyone asked if she was "happy," she would say yes immediately. She gave the question little thought at the time, but upon curling up in her bed that night, she would stare at the cracking ceiling for hours, pondering whether she was being truthful or not. She was content with her lifestyle, yes; her co-workers were friendly enough. She occasionally gave in to the protests of her friends and went out on Friday nights for a drink in a nearby bar, and she had enough money to purchase a new phone without sinking into poverty…

But when it came down to it, Harper was lonesome. Even among her friends and co-workers, she felt like just a statue, carried along for the ride. No one ever hit on her at the bars. No one ever asked more than a "How are you?" when she came into work. It was as though she was just…_there._

She tried not to complain.

Harper subconsciously wiped a blob of white baking soda from her cheek, only to smear it worse than before. It was a Thursday afternoon, which meant the lunch hour. Floods of customers streamed in and out of the bakery, occasionally tossing some spare change into the tip jar before leaving. She was invested in making a Raspberry Cream Cheese Coffee Cake, combining flower, butter, and sugar in a bright pink bowl.

"Hurry it up with those oatmeal cookies!" Jared, one of the managers, snipped at a newer employee, who gave a small start and nearly knocked over a bowl of shortening. He scowled after him and Harper's lip twitched against her will into a smile; she remembered how rough her first week on the job had been.

Things were fairly normal, for the most part. Aside from a clearly drunken man who'd evidently had himself a mid-day liquor break, Harper hadn't seen much action.

_Until now._

A loud, earth-shaking _crash!_ resounded outside the window, causing the room to tremble, and all of the customers gasped or screamed as they staggered. Harper stumbled and paused mid-stir to look at Emmett, a curly-haired employee she was good friends with. He raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged.

_BOOM!_

Sudden shrieks erupted from outside and one of the windows shattered, sending customers scattering in all directions, terrified. The main door swung open and a tall black man covered in debris ducked inside, shouting, "Everyone, get out right now! There's a-a-an attack! An extraterrestrial attack!"

"What the hell's he—?" Emmett began, but Harper immediately set her bowl down and removed her dirty apron. She'd seen enough in the news on this matter to know that this was no joke—strange things had been going on for months now, including similar events in New Mexico.

"Shit!" Harper tossed her apron aside and leaned over the counter, watching the customers disperse like ants in a rainstorm. "Emmett, you—you get what's happening, don't you? It's just like what—"

The wall behind them blasted open, sending bricks and foundation in every direction. Harper screamed and through herself to the ground on her stomach beside Emmett, covering her head as rubble showered down upon her.

Several people were crying, and sirens were blasting in the distance. Harper got shakily to her feet, pulling shards of glass from her now-bloody arms.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" Emmett demanded, anger masking his fear.

"We better take that man's advice," Harper advised, pale eyes wide enough to be saucers. She was trembling violently, unable to conceal her own terror. She never would've thought something like this would happen here, not to _her… _"C'mon, let's get out of here!"

She took Emmett by the hand and they hurried out the back entrance and into the alleyway, alongside other scrambling employees. None of this seemed real, it had come on so suddenly—what happened to her average, every day Thursday afternoon?

"_Look out!"_ Emmett suddenly gripped Harper by the arm, pulling her roughly back as a man—or rather, some kind of foreign alien creature—fell in front of her, collapsing in a heap with an arrow in its back.

"This can't be happening," Harper murmured, mostly to herself. She could feel Emmett urging her on, leading the way through the swarming crowds, but was only half-aware of what was occurring around her. "What are those things?"

"Why ask _me?"_ Emmett turned sharply from side to side, trying to maneuver his way to safety. "Oh, man, look at all that wreckage…"

The hordes of scrambling people were becoming more and more dense. Harper held tightly to Emmett's hand, practically digging her nails into his skin, but he was sweaty. As civilians rammed into her from every side, she could feel her grip loosening little by little, until—

"_Harper!"_

Harper fell to her hands and knees. She tried to stand, to reach out to Emmett, but she was repeatedly hit from every angle by purses, elbows, and feet. Someone's arm knocked her upside the head and she let out a pained yelp, holding her head in her hands as it pulsed with pain. She was being trampled into the ground, no one giving her a second thought. Her short black hair splayed out before her like a curtain, obscuring her already blurring view.

"_HARPER!"_

Emmett sounded miles away now—and maybe he was. Maybe she was just imagining his shouts, hallucinating as the collisions began to get to her. Perhaps she'd gotten a concussion? She moaned at the thought and tilted sideways, falling on her right shoulder to lie in a crumpled heap on the concrete.

Her vision went in and out, as did her senses. Everything went black for a moment, and when she came to, the crowd was long gone. Her head pounded, sending waves of anguish through her body, and she could not sit up. She remained on her side, cheek pressed into the street, grey eyes darting from side to side.

"H-hello?" she croaked, her voice barely audible. She could feel bruises beginning to blossom on her arms and legs. "Emmett? Where'd—"

Her voice gave out with a rasp and she gave up, remaining paralyzed in place. If she could just force herself to move, then perhaps she could have a better look around. But just as she flexed her fingers, trying to encourage herself into moving, she felt a sudden, heavy weight press into her back and gasped as a jolt of pain shot up her spine.

…

Loki knew he was losing. He was not contented by the thought (the understatement of the year), but he had come to terms with it regardless. He was running quickly out of options, having underestimated the strength this "Avengers" group carried. The band of freaks had somehow managed to take back the city, getting civilians out of the line of fire whilst keeping his army at bay.

He knew he had to think, and he had to think _fast…_But the God of Mischief did not go down without a fight, even if it meant kicking and screaming and losing his dignity. It was his birthright to rule, to be a king to his people…And if not to Asgardians, then at least to Midgardians.

But what could he do? He watched dismally, his arrogance dissolved, as his army fell to the power of the Avengers. He scanned the ground atop one of the Chitauri's hover boards, his thin emerald eyes fleeting as he watched one Chitauri warrior after another fall prey to one of the Avengers.

He had to admit, as much as it pained him to do so, that he was done. He was no dupe; he could tell when things were over. But now there was the prospect of what would become of him on Asgard—what would they do, pray tell, to a man that had murdered hundreds without so much as a spark of pity? Odin surely would not show him any mercy, the damn old fool…

And then he saw it—his chance, his golden opportunity. A Midgardian lay collapsed on the ground in the street, his body sprawled out like an eagle. At first Loki thought them dead—but as he drew his means of transportation closer, he could see the man's side heaving slightly, making out shaky breaths. His dark hair covered his face, but Loki could tell he was alive. Perfect.

Loki forced the hover craft to come to a halt before the young man and he hopped off, striding toward them with renewed confidence. He paused in front of the Midgardian, lifted his boot up, and pressed it into their back, rolling them over so he could see their face.

To his surprise, he found that the male was actually, in fact, a woman. This made no difference to him as far as sympathy went, however, and he kept his boot firmly on her chest, forcing her to remain in place.

"I wouldn't struggle too much, if I were you, human," he advised icily, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to one side as he observed her pallid form. "Make this simpler on both of us, won't you?"

The woman's breathing quickened and, as her frightened grey eyes focused onto him, she suddenly narrowed them into a scowl. Then she shook her head. "Go to hell," she moaned, and began jerking her body from side to side under his weight, thrashing around like a wild animal.

"Oh, a defiant one. Well, you wouldn't have lived long under my rule then, anyway." He chuckled darkly, lifted his scepter and removed his boot, and pressed the jagged tip against her heaving chest. "But you'll do_. Goodnight,_ Midgardian."

The woman uttered a last intake of breath before her head fell limply to one side, eyes shutting as the cobalt light of the Tesseract surged through her veins. He'd tried something different with this one—instead of simply using her as a somewhat still-thinking puppet, he'd forced an extra dose into her bloodstream, a powerful surge that would surely be enough to keep his "brother" and the rest of the anomalies at bay.

He scooped her up carelessly and set her aside on the hover craft. It was quite sad, really, how easily Thor and the others could be swayed. Humans (and Thor, too—the oaf) were swayed by the prospect of death far too easily. Why had he not thought of this before? Perhaps it was too simple, taking a human captive and using them as a means of getting his way, but he had little options left at this point. One life would not be able to win a war, of course, but could still keep him from a knife to the throat.

…

Harper didn't manage so much as a scream before she was plunged once again into sudden darkness. As she sank into a world not unlike a dream, she was aware of only two things: the color blue, and something cold. Her heart, maybe? Yes. Her heart felt icy. It was an unpleasant feeling, and she wondered whether it was the cold hand of death overtaking her.

Well, this was just fantastic. One moment she was baking cake, the next she was possibly dead, at the hand of a man—or whatever the hell he was—that she did not even know. So this was what she'd be remembered by, to the rest of humanity? As that one girl no one knew the name of who was murdered by an extraterrestrial?

However, death did not come so easily. Harper began to stir, light infiltrating her eyes and blinding her momentarily. She blinked, feeling queasy and heavy in the limbs. As she forced her eyes fully open, she found herself feet away from something—well, someone—she'd never dreamed of ever coming face-to-face with: The Avengers.

She recognized most of them—Tony Stark, the billionaire that lived in Stark Tower not far from her apartment—Captain America, the super-soldier uncovered from the ice—and Thor, the God of thunder and lightning, supposedly from another world entirely. There was a redheaded woman, muscular brunette, and lean man with an assortment of bows and arrows, but she could not place a name for any of them. She looked hazily around at the group, wondering whether she was hallucinating or not.

"You see?" hissed a deep, spine-tingling voice. Harper blinked, realizing she was not supporting herself with her own two feet. Someone had her arm and shoulder gripped painfully tight, keeping her steady and firmly in place. "You have no choice, 'brother.' Should I ask it, this woman will murder herself on the spot in any way, shape, or form I desire. I could have her spill her blood right in front of you, and there's nothing you could possibly do to stop her."

Harper shivered and turned, fearfully meeting the dark, malice-lined green eyes of the man from before. She tried to worm her way out of his grip, but her feeble attempt was useless. The man's icy breath hit the side of her neck each time he spoke, initiating a wince from her.

"Are we at an agreement?" the man asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Thor looked livid, his deep blue eyes narrowed and his mouth downturned. He met Harper's gaze for only a moment before looking back to the man, jaw set.

"Very well, Loki," he answered, his voice deep and hands clenched into fists. "But if I meet your demands, then she goes free. No harm shall come to her."

"Oh, but of course," Loki answered , drumming his fingers against Harper's shoulder. She cringed.

"Excuse me," Harper inputted, finding her voice, "but exactly _where am I?_ And am I right in saying that I'm involved in some kind of—some kind of deal? What the hell's going on here?"

Thor cleared his throat uncomfortably and Loki chuckled, letting more cold air brush her neck. "Not one that you have a say in, dear. And I would advise you keep your lips shut; you're under my control."

"What do you—?" Harper wasn't sure of how much time had passed. They were standing in the middle of Central Park, and judging by the way the sun was set in the sky, she imagined only a few hours had gone by. The group exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"Well, this is just great," Steve Rogers sighed, shaking his head with a grim expression. "We save the world, and what do we get? A hostage situation to deal with."

"I apologize, miss," Thor rumbled, striding forward with a pair of chains and a muzzle-like, metal device in his muscular hands. "And Loki, I can only grant you so much; if you are not returned restrained…" He trailed off.

Loki smirked, his green eyes glittering. "Oh, naturally…Not that it matters. I am in her head, so I need not my hands to slit her throat."

Harper swallowed. "Look, I have no idea what's going on. I'm just a baker; I'm not worth anything, you must have me mistaken for someone else! What do you need me for?"

Loki rolled his eyes as Thor tightened the chains on his hands and opened his mouth to explain, releasing Harper from Loki's tight grip. But the moment she was free, Harper took off in the other direction, running as fast as her feet would carry her.

Thor and the others lunged forward, trying to stop her. _"Don't—"_

Harper yelped suddenly as something sharp and painful sparked in her head. She tripped, regained her balance, and found herself reaching for her own throat, squeezing it as hard as she could. She gasped like a fish out of water, mustering all her strength to try and let go, but her hands refused to budge. Then, a moment later, the sensation broke away and she fell to her knees, wheezing.

"Foolish girl," Loki remarked, shaking his head with a sneer.

"You mustn't do that," Thor insisted sharply, helping Harper to her feet. "You misunderstand—if I do not take you with us, my brother will…" He heaved a heavy sigh. "He will force you to murder yourself. I am sorry for this, truly…But unless I wish you dead, there is nothing I can do to help."

Harper's terror-stricken eyes darted between his, her expression bemused. "But—but I don't understand! Take me _where?"_

"To Asgard," the man with the arrows interjected. "It's…well, another realm."

The redheaded woman beside him pursed her lips. "Way to tell it to her gently."

As Harper let what they'd explained sink in, the world was beginning to spin. She let Thor lead her back to the others and remained rooted on the spot, expression blank. How had this happened? If only she'd held on to Emmett better, had escaped with the others… She had begun to fall into a state of shock.

Thor adjusted the muzzle on Loki (who looked displeased, to say the least) and held out a cobalt, glowing, cube-like object to Harper. "Grab hold, please."

Very hesitantly, Harper let her fingers rest on the cool material of the cube. As her digits brushed the surface, she felt a cold chill swim through her veins and shivered again at the sensation. This was all too much to take in at once, and she still could not quite comprehend the whole situation. But if going along with this madness would eventually return her home safe, then so be it.

And with any luck, maybe this was all just a terrible dream, and in a matter of moments, she would awake in her bed, laughing at how ridiculous it all was and how worked up she'd gotten. It would make a great story for her co-workers, surely—Emmett would certainly get a kick out of it.

But before she could register what was happening, Harper felt her stomach jerk forward and the room spun. A rainbow shower of color invaded her vision and she felt as though she were soaring upward, her short dark hair flying around her shoulders, the wind sharp against her cheeks.

But mere seconds later, Harper found herself standing in the center of a sphere-like, golden room, blinking in stars from the surrounding area. The others were no longer with them and the air felt oddly lighter, less constrained…Had they just…transported?

Yup, she was definitely dreaming. Or maybe even drugged. At this point, even that sounded more appealing.

…

_Hey, guys! How did you like it? I really hope to get some feedback/thoughts from you guys. Please review and tell me what you thought! I realize it moved pretty quickly, not giving me a lot of time to develop Harper or add in Loki scenes, but I promise there will be more with him later. And interactions! But this is a rough/short start to the story, so hopefully it will get better._

_Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own Harper; nothing else. All other content goes to Stan Lee._

…

Harper could barely keep her balance. Thor steadied her by the shoulder as they walked, keeping her from toppling over. A tall, black man equipped in golden attire stood in the center of the room atop a raised base, clutching a sword in his hands. His sharp, yellow eyes followed them, acknowledging their presence with a mere nod.

Asgard, as Thor called it, was supposedly a more advanced realm, but Harper saw only medieval clothing and horses as means of transportation. The architecture also reflected an earlier time period, and all the women wore long, modest dresses. Harper became suddenly aware of her work clothing—tattered jeans and a white t-shirt stained by chocolate smears and baking powder. She was also rather beaten up, covered from head to toe in bruises and blood.

Of course, the other two accompanying her probably drew more attention, based on the raised eyebrows and fleeting glances the native people shot in their direction. Thor led the way, weaving around warriors equipped with weaponry and children running through the street, play-fighting and mimicking them.

Harper felt woozy. Here she stood, the baker from Manhattan, in the middle of another realm, feeling quite out of place. She clutched Thor's muscular arm, trying to keep from falling.

They eventually reached the largest building, nodding to the guards at the entrance as they passed through the massive gates. Harper gazed around at her surroundings, hardly believing any of it was real. The palace was breathtaking! Every painting, every artifact, every _chandelier_…It was all beautiful.

"Let Loki do the talking," Thor whispered to Harper under his breath as they entered what Harper assumed was most likely a throne room. They crossed the space and came to a sudden halt before an enormous golden throne, upon which a white-bearded man with an eye patch sat. His pale blue eyes narrowed as they knelt before him. Loki remained standing, and two guards came to either side of him to hold him in place.

Thor guided Harper into a bow before backing up and letting Loki step in front of them, the chains on his shackles rattling as the guards removed his silver muzzle. A stunning, golden-haired woman dressed in blue robes approached the side of the chair, her eyes downcast.

"Loki," she greeted curtly, her expression hurt.

Loki sneered. "Hello mother. Have I made you proud?"

"Please, don't make this worse."

"Define worse?"

"Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone," the older announced harshly, his voice stern. Harper winced a little and turned to leave immediately, but Thor kept her in place.

"This is not a matter for me to attend," Thor explained, resting a hand atop her shoulder, "but you must remain. Again, I am so sorry that you were pulled into this situation."

As Thor swept from the room with the other woman, glancing once over his shoulder, the man atop the throne's one eye narrowed down at Harper.

"What is the meaning of this?" the man demanded sharply. "You, Midgardian: Why do you stand here at my feet?"

"Oh, we'll get to that," Loki assured him before Harper could so much as open her mouth. "I really don't see what all the fuss is about?"

The man re-directed his attention back to Loki. "Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes? Where ever you go there is war, ruin and death."

"I went down down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent God. Just like you."

"We are not Gods. We are born, we live, we die. Just as humans do."

"Give or take 5,000 years," Loki retorted snidely.

"All this because Loki desired… a throne."

Loki's emerald eyes suddenly flashed with anger. "It is my birthright!"

"Your birthright," the man snarled, rising a little from his seat, "was to die! As a child. Cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in you would not be here now to hate me."

"If I'm for the axe then for Mercy's sake, just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks it's just… I don't love them."

"Frigga is the only reason you're still alive, and you'll never see her again. You'll spend the rest of your days in the dungeon. But first, you will taste punishment for your crimes—torture, from a snake's poison so painful, it burns through the flesh."

Loki swallowed. "And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf King while I rot in chains?"

"Thor must strive to undo the damage you have done. He'll bring order to the nine realms and then, yes, he will be King."

Loki's expression was nothing short of sheer rage, his shoulders tensed. Then he smirked. "Well then, shall we return to the matter at hand?" His icy eyes fell upon Harper, who took a timid step back. "I've brought you a spoil of war, _dear father. _A means of negotiation."

The elderly man's sole eye focused on Harper, then back to Loki with a glowering look. "Elaborate; what purpose could you have for this lowly being?"

"She is under my command," Loki explained, eyes glinting with arrogance. "Try as you may to stop her, but if I should wish it, she will slay herself here and now, upon your throne floors."

A grim expression crossed the man's features as he looked from Harper to Loki. Clearly he'd known the younger man long enough to know he was not bluffing. "Fine. Do as you may—what care have I for one single, insignificant Midgardian?"

"Hey!" Harper snapped, unable to keep herself quiet any longer. "You may not value my life, but _I_ do!"

Loki's smirk wavered. He knew he was in trouble now… Thor, the oafish moron—he would've bent over backwards to save this young woman. Any of the Avengers, in fact, would have knelt before his very feet. But Odin? Clearly getting out of the chains was not on the table. But the torture, perhaps…

"A life for a life," Loki continued, his eyes cold now. "If I am not to be tormented by the whip, then I will let her go. But if you so much as lay a lash to my back, I will make sure the pain is doubled tenfold on this woman."

A flash of fear ran through Harper's body and she met the older man's eye, her face expressing only utmost pleading for pity. The man regarded her with a blank expression for a moment. Then, after a long pause, he finally answered, "Very well. You will not be tortured, but you are to spend the rest of your days in chains. That is my final offer to you, no further bargaining."

Loki reluctantly nodded, his pale lips a thin line. This is not how he'd seen this play out in his head, but it was better than nothing. All that effort, only to find himself locked away for the rest of his life, like a caged animal…

The guards escorted Loki from the room, leaving the man and Harper alone with one sole other guard. With a murmur to him, the other guard exited the room for a moment, and then returned with Thor at his side.

"Return this Midgardian to her home," he ordered to Thor, slowly standing.

But Thor remained frozen in place. "Father…I believe she needs medical attention. Loki has done something to her, I know not what—and it has injured her internally somehow. Look." He gently lifted Harper's arm, and for the first time in a while, Harper actually looked at it. She swallowed a shriek. Her veins were popping out, bright blue and _glowing _with power.

"Look upon her, father," Thor pleaded. "She is not well."

The older man heaved a sigh, shaking his head grudgingly. "Fine. Do what you will; just make sure she is returned home within the hour." And with that, he swept from the room, cape billowing behind him. Thor peered down at Harper.

"This must be a lot for you to comprehend," he murmured understandingly. "I apologize for my brother's actions."

Harper nodded weakly. "Yeah, uh…I'm still not entirely sure what's going on, actually. Still stuck on the whole alien bit."

Thor chuckled, releasing her veined arm. "What is your name? My apologies for not asking before."

"It's Harper," she returned. "Harper Faye. And you're Thor, right?" She already knew the answer, but felt compelled to ask. He nodded. "Who was that, then? The king?"

"My father, Odin, yes. King of Asgard and protector of the Nine Realms."

"Yeesh. Pretty big responsibility." She glanced over her shoulder. "And who was the psycho from before? Loki, right?"

"He is my...brother," Thor answered, hesitating on the word. It seemed to be a sore spot for him. "Here, come; let us get you to the Healing room. I am not sure what ails you, to be quite honest. When Loki tried to control you, I believe he tapped into you a little too far. If I may take a guess, I am thinking some of its power has transferred to you."

Harper turned sharply to face him, startled. "What? Some of it's _in_ me?"

Thor nodded as he guided her from the room and up a flight of stairs, taking care to not pull too roughly. "I would assume so, yes."

Harper looked away. Well. This was perfect…So what were they going to do, drop her back off on Earth with this—whatever the hell this was—still in her system?

When they reached the Healing room, Thor led her to a table in the center and had her crawl atop it, lying on her back. The healers gathered around her, glancing questioningly at Thor, who nodded in acknowledgement.

One of them took her wrist and examined it while another listened to her heartbeat. Then they set up a golden field of sand-like particles above her head, squinting at the dust and muttering to each other. A brunette healer turned to face Thor, motioning for him to come closer.

"I'm afraid that this—Tesseract, as you called it, has absorbed into her bloodstream. If we attempt to remove it from her body, she may very well die."

Thor drew closer, eyebrows knit and jaw set. "Then what are we to do? We cannot let her go back in this state, not like this…"

"But I have to go back!" Harper protested suddenly, sitting upright and busting through the golden particles. "Everyone will think I'm dead! Emmett—" Her voice broke off. Emmett! _He must think my disappearance is his fault…_He'd surely think she was killed by one of the aliens, and, knowing him, he was probably blaming himself for it all at this very moment. And her family…Her mother had passed long ago, but what of her father? When news of her vanishing reached him…

A short, blond healer toward the back suddenly piped up. "The Seer," she proposed softly, looking between the others. "She is sparing with her prophecies these days, but perhaps…perhaps she may be of assistance?"

"What, a Prophet?" said Harper, squinting up at Thor. "What good would that do?"

"She tells the future," Thor answered, helping her up, "and many times, her prophecies have been able to tell the fate of those that are ill, and whether we should aid them or if it is fruitless."

"It is worth a try," the brunette from before agreed. "But if she predicts your demise, then it is hopeless."

…

They reached the Seer's place within around ten minute's time walking distance. It was an obstructed little area near the outskirts of the city, surrounded by undergrowth and tall trees. Harper ducked beneath the low branches and followed Thor, keeping close at his side.

"The Seer has not granted us a prophecy in many years," Thor mused, stepping over a fallen log and keeping his cape off the ground. "I would be lying in saying that I think she may be generous today."

Harper nodded silently in return. "It's fine," she returned quietly. "I just still haven't even gotten over all of this yet…"

They came to a halt before a statue of a woman draped in a cloak. Thor knelt before it, instructing Harper to do the same. She frowned up at it, not quite understanding how it was in any way, shape, or form a Prophet. They waited for two straight minutes in complete silence, merely watching it for a reaction. Just as Harper began to lose hope and turn away, a sudden voice echoed from the depths of the statue, eerie and cracked.

_"In two years' time Asgard will fall_

_Dark power will bring its demise_

_The palace will no longer stand tall_

_And many must say their goodbyes_

_But from this calamity the girl will flourish_

_Find her place in the realm of gods_

_Shall rebuild and construct, aid and furnish_

_Accompany the trio and beat the odds_

_The snake will play the harp,_

_Shall not respect its wonder_

_But soon in time shall become less sharp_

_And learn to love its blunder."_

The ominous voice faded away, leaving the pair alone again and silent. Then Thor stood, his expression one of horror.

"Asgard will fall," he repeated softly. "In a mere two years?"

"Maybe it was a metaphor…?" Harper suggested, but she knew she was just being hopeful; the message had been awfully clear. "So, from what I gathered, I can get rid of this in a year. But what the hell am I supposed to do until then?"

Thor didn't answer her right away. He stood in place, staring off into the distance with a look of one who'd just taken a difficult and long exam. Then he looked back at her, expression sympathetic.

"We cannot return you home," he answered softly, "for the Tesseract poses a threat still to the Midgardians we have just saved. We cannot ruin their recovery…" He paused and Harper drew closer, urging him silently to go on. "But we also cannot let this power harm my people, either. We are prospering, and I cannot afford…" He trailed off.

"So," Harper repeated again, her voice barely above a whisper, "what am I supposed to do?"

Thor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, scanning the ground as he considered his options. "Well, there is one thing…"

"What?" Harper demanded. "What were you thinking?"

Thor turned back to face her, his face blank. "You are aware that, once frozen, the Captain of America survived for many years?"

Harper nodded, having not yet registered what he was suggesting. "I heard of that, yeah. What does that have to do with…?" Realization set in and she broke off, frowning as it dawned on her. "Wait a minute. You're not suggesting—"

Thor nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so. For the sake of both realms, Miss Faye, we are going to have to freezes your body for at least two years."

…

_So yeah, I definitely didn't steal that idea from Captain America or anything. But it's a convenient way to skip ahead two years, right? And it made the most sense, given her situation. I know this chapter was short, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless! I promise things will pick up soon; it's just that easing into the story and explaining everything is not particularly exciting. But once we get into the action, hopefully the story will be better. Read and review, please! Feedback fuels the hungry writer._


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